


Taco Tuesday

by LadyMyfanwy



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:55:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25883197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyMyfanwy/pseuds/LadyMyfanwy
Summary: A quiet afternoon seemed like the perfect time to enjoy a nice lunch together as a team.
Relationships: Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Taco Tuesday

Taco Tuesday 

Doctor Owen Harper closed the file on the last report he had to do and tossed it into the basket, where it would sit until Ianto came around at the end of the day to collect it and all the others the medic had finally completed. Stomping loudly up the stairs he stopped in front of Gwen’s desk and stretched, announcing,

“I am done! I’m not touching anything else work-related until tomorrow morning.” He winked at Gwen over the top of her computer monitor. “I will however be putting my hands all over…”

“Hey, kids! Nothing’s coming through the Rift for a while.” Jack burst from his office, larger than life as always. “Let’s call it a day and go out somewhere, get a drink, maybe some nibbles? Any takers?”

“Oh hell yeah!!” Owen crowed. “In fact, I feel so good the first round’s on me!”

“Then I’m in!” Gwen started shutting down her computer. “Tosh?” 

Toshiko looked at her monitor, entered several keystrokes and smiled happily with the results. “As a matter of fact, I do deserve to celebrate.” She closed out four different programs, each screen going black and then she shut the system down. “Where do you want to go?”

“Not the Crown… don’t wanna see that waitress for a while… a long while…” Owen shook his head fiercely at the others. “And don’t even think about asking why!”

Ianto appeared from the kitchen, overhearing Owen’s last comment and he shook his head disapprovingly. “I really don’t think any of us need to, Owen.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Let’s just say,” Gwen piped up, “that your reputation proceeds you, okay?”

“Oh yeah…? Well…!” Owen sputtered indignantly. “I…”

“That’s enough, kids, let’s play nicely.” Jack came down the stairs. “Now, pick a place and the second round’s on me.”

“Not the Red Lion either,” Owen was actually a bit embarrassed to say. “Same thing. And the Royal Oak. Been banned from there for a year.”

“What on earth did you do to get barred from a pub?! Punch the bartender?” Jack laughed. “I mean, getting barred is pretty hard to do!”

Owen cleared his throat, wishing he hadn’t said anything at all. “Well, how was I supposed to know that the blonde sitting at the end of the bar was his wife?” he asked indignantly. “He punched me, I punched him back, then he punched me again, picked me up off the floor and threw me out the door.”

“You said you got that black eye from hitting yourself in the face opening your cupboard,” Toshiko snorted crossly.

“In my defence, she was wearing next to nothing and she kept looking at me! What was I supposed to do?!”

Tosh just shook her head in disappointment, turned away and began collecting her purse and checking its contents.

“I know…” Gwen dug around in her purse and pulled out a flyer. “Here, let’s go here. Rhys and several of the drivers from Harwoods went last week and according to Rhys the food was really quite good.”

“Where?”

“The King’s Head,” Gwen read. “Just reopened under new management…” She looked up at Owen. “Think you’ve pissed off anyone there yet, Owen?”

“Oh, hardy-har-har, Cooper.” The medic flounced over and threw himself down on the ratty old sofa.

“Didn’t that used to be The Knobbly Lobster?” Jack asked curiously, a frown wrinkling his brow.

“The what?” Owen burst into gales of laughter. “Are you… nobody would name a pub after a nob!”

Jack pouted. “I didn’t say nob, you giant prat.”

“It’s all right, Jack,” Ianto soothed. “Just ignore him, he won’t be laughing when he gets in the second round as well.”

That stopped Owen’s laughter right in its tracks. “What?”

Toshiko hurried to smooth ruffled feathers. “How far is the pub from here? Can we walk?”

Gwen consulted the address. “Actually, it’s only about a block and half away, I think.” She handed the flyer to Ianto. “What do you think?”

“Two blocks west and then a left turn and we have arrived at our destination,” he deadpanned then he glanced at his watch. “In fact, this says they have Happy Hour specials from two to four Monday through Thursday, and it’s just going on 1:30, why don’t we go for a late lunch as well?” He looked around expectantly.

“Fine by me!” Gwen announced eagerly. “I was planning on having just toast and tea for dinner… Rhys has a boys’ night out with his mates so no homecooked meal for me tonight.” 

“You could learn to cook, ya know, Cooper,” Owen snarked.

“No!” Jack, Ianto and Toshiko all exclaimed loudly at the same time. All three carried the memory of Gwen bringing in a casserole one day… something she’d seen on a cooking show she’d found on YouTube and thought she could make herself. It was a horrible concoction of soggy, unidentifiable vegetables, and chicken that somehow was rather undercooked while still managing to be quite tough, all glopped together with lumpy grey gravy that still tasted of raw flour and overpowering garlic. Owen had been spared the experience… and the upset stomach… as he was lucky enough to be in London for a medical conference.

“All right! Keep yer shirts on!” Owen rolled his eyes in a magnificent display of Ianto’s habit. “Jeez!”

Jack clapped his hands. “Let’s get this show on the road! I’m hungry!” He rushed up the stairs to his office and returned a few moments later with his Webley securely in its holster and his great coat slung over his arm, bounding down the stairs to stop at Ianto’s feet. The Welshman shrugged into his coat first and then helped Jack on with his, smoothing his hands over the shoulders and down the arms, his fingers tangling with Jack’s for just a moment at the end.

Tosh and Gwen both retrieved their belongings and slipped into their jackets while Owen dashed across the Hub floor and down the stairs to his medical bay, returning with his leather jacket on and being zipped up.

The medic ran to the big cog door, slipping through the instant there was enough room, shouting over his shoulder, “Shotgun!”

Ianto looked at the empty door and rolled his eyes, then looked at the rest of the team. “How long do you think he’s going to sit in the SUV til he remembers that we’re walking to the pub?”

{*****}

The Torchwood team were halfway down the block when Owen came pounding up behind them. “OI!” 

As one the others stopped and turned to look at him, waiting.

“You were just gonna leave me sitting back there, weren’t you?!” 

Gwen’s eyes widened with surprise. “You weren’t with us? We didn’t even notice.”

Owen’s mouth dropped open. “Wha…? You didn’t see… Bloody morons!” He pushed his way through them and took the lead in the walk to the pub, muttering, “some friends you are!”

A few minutes later the group was walking through the front door of the King’s Head, pausing to gape wide-eyed at the new décor. It was a lot to take in and none of them had ever seen the like of it in any pub they’d ever been in before. 

“Well… it’s certainly different,” Ianto commented politely, trying to take in riot of colour and the myriad objects covering the walls and hanging from the ceiling.

Jack pushed them all forward. “There’s a table over there… get moving you lot.” Shrugging off their coats as they walked, the team sat down and gawped at their surroundings. The newly decorated pub was something to behold, with a very distinctive Mexican theme going on.

“Holy shit!” Owen murmured. “Looks like a bloody pinata had diarrhoea all over the place!”

Gwen started to giggle but Tosh gently kicked her under the table just as the waitress arrived.

“Here you go, folks,” she handed around the menus, single sheets of printer paper that had been laminated. “We got a new cook in yesterday and she’s still getting used to the recipes, so the menu is a bit limited at the moment but we expect to be up and running completely with a full menu again in another week or so.”

Ianto thanked her and glanced at the menu; a few of the standards were there, several sandwiches and jacket potatoes with various toppings, fish and chips, pie and chips, sausage and chips, and a couple of different burger/cheeseburgers. There were also new items, tortilla chips and salsa, nachos, a taco plate, a burrito plate, and a combo plate. 

“I’ll be back in a minute to take your order, okay?” The waitress hurried away to take food to another table. 

Owen took advantage of the moment to head up to the bar to get in the first round. When he returned he had a flyer in his hand. “Get a load of this!” He plunked the drinks down on the table and waved the paper at his team. “They’ve got all-you-can-eat tacos! Good thing I’m hungry!”

Jack took the paper from him and turned it over. “They also have a macho burrito eating challenge.”

“A what?” 

“Says here you have to consume a four-pound burrito along with four tacos, a plate of nachos and one sopapilla within thirty minutes,” Jack read.

“Why on earth would anyone want do that?” Ianto peered over the rim of his beer glass with a faintly disapproving look. 

Owen snatched the paper back from Jack. “Says I can win bragging rights, a T-shirt, a photo on the Wall of Fame and £50 pounds.”

“So you can win?” Gwen was sceptical. 

“Sure, why not?” Owen took a drink of his beer. 

“Cos you don’t exactly look like a professional eater, that’s why not,” Gwen scoffed.

“Don’t need to,” Owen shook his head. “It’s the skinny guy who wins these things now.”

“No, it’s not,” Gwen laughed. “Don’t be daft!”

“Yeah, it is! A skinny guy has more room in his abdomen to expand the stomach and stretch the muscles than those bulky guys who are constricted by their six packs and stuff,” Owen explained.

“Nuh-uh…” Gwen still wasn’t convinced, sure that Owen was just taking the piss.

“Unfortunately, he’s right, Gwen,” Ianto nodded, looking up from his mobile to read aloud. “For six years straight, a fairly thin man from Japan, Takeru Kobayashi, won a hot dog contest over much larger competitive eaters. In fact, his record was 110 hot dogs in ten minutes at the New York State Fair.”

“That’s disgusting!” Gwen’s eyes were saucers. 

“It kind of is,” Tosh agreed with her. “I watched him compete in the Nathan’s Hot Dog Eating Contest…”

“The what?” Gwen interrupted.

“It’s held on Coney Island in New York every Fourth of July,” she explained patiently. “It’s been on TV. Nathan’s is a hot dog stand that’s been around for over a hundred years. They started the contest back in the 70’s and there’s even a women’s division. The competitors use several different techniques to eat as many hot dogs and their buns as they can as fast as they can and they are pretty messy, but Takeru beat them all, including men twice his size.”

“Huh…” Gwen was flabbergasted.

“Yeah, see? As a skinny guy I could take this burrito on no problem,” Owen boasted. 

“Why don’t we see how many tacos you can eat before you sign up,” Ianto suggested. “You might win £50 but if you fail, you have to pay £25 forfeit and your photo goes up on the Wall of Shame.”

“I have to pay just to enter?” Owen’s mouth fell open.

Ianto nodded. “Yes, but here at the bottom it says that the entry fees are donated to the Ty Hafen paediatric care charity here in Cardiff.”  
“Oh… well, that’s okay then.” Owen sipped his beer and thought about it for moment. “Okay, fine, tacos it is,” he agreed. “Bet I can eat more than any of you though.”

“Bet you can’t,” Jack immediately took up the challenge. 

“Can too!”

Jack grinned. “Put your money where your mouth is, Harper.”

“Done!” Owen slapped the table. “How much?”

Jack’s grin took on a slightly evil glint. “Loser cleans Janet’s cell for a month.”

Weevils weren’t known for their sweet-smelling poo, although they were careful to use only one corner for their rather prolific leavings and Owen’s response was much less enthusiastic than before. “Erm… Yeah, okay.”

Gwen piped up. “One of Rhys’ drivers ate nine tacos, Owen, you have to at least do better than that.”

“Oh trust me, I can probably eat like fifteen or so,” Owen patted his belly. “I’m starving!”

“I think you’ll have to do better than that, Owen.” Ianto continued to consult Wikipedia. “It says here that Takeru once ate 159 tacos in ten minutes.” 

“What now?” Owen blanched. 

“Maybe the burrito challenge is something you can work up to,” Tosh offered helpfully. “Four pounds is an awful lot of food at one time, plus the other items as well.”

Ianto, always sensible, agreed with her. “I estimate that an average taco weighs about a quarter pound which means that it will take sixteen tacos to equal the burrito alone, plus the required four additional, so that means twenty tacos in all, however…” He frowned and left the table, going over the wall of photos of those who’d tried the challenge. 

He looked first at the life-size photo of the four-pound burrito in question; it looked like a small rugby ball. Then he studied the second photo where it had been blown up to twice its regular size, then cut in half and arranged so that potential eaters could ‘see the goodness inside’, as the caption declared, thereby make the challenge more tempting, especially to someone who’d been drinking a bit and was feeling invincible

Ianto’s analytical brain dissected the burrito into its components: flour tortillas, a thick layer of refried beans, a layer of pinto beans, a good layer of rice, then a layer of seasoned ground beef, a layer of cheese, then salsa, all rolled up with more shredded cheese and salsa on top along with large dollops of sour cream, guacamole and a liberal sprinkling of sliced jalapenos. He returned to the table.

“Taking into consideration that a lot of the weight in that burrito comes from the large flour tortillas you’ll have to adjust for that thick heavy texture as well as the sheer stomach filling aspect of all the beans. So, the light corn tortilla used in tacos versus the stodginess of the two large flour tortillas means you should probably eat at least… oh, four maybe even six more tacos, which brings the taco total up to say twenty-six tacos today.”

Ever helpful, Gwen Googled the weight of bean burritos, saying that at a Mexican fast food a single one weighed seven ounces. “That’s just under a half a pound each.”

“I’d estimate there’s around a full pound of beans alone in the burrito, then there’s the plate of nachos… it looked like they have beans, cheese and more jalapenos on them so I’d say three more tacos, just to be on the safe side plus one more to cover the sopapilla.”

“The what?” The medic’s face was blank.

“The dessert, Owen. It’s a fried pastry similar to a donut or a beignet, kind of like a pocket you can open up, and while it’s tasty on its own, it’s usually served with honey to drizzle inside or over. It’s quite popular in Hispanic culture.”

Jack cocked an eyebrow at Owen. “You’re up to at least thirty tacos, Owen, probably better stick on a couple more just to be on the safe side, so I’d say you need to eat thirty-two tacos to equal the burrito and stuff.”

Owen smiled rather wanly and gulped. “Erm… okay, maybe I can do twenty.” He looked doubtful though. “But that’s just today, I can work up to the rest.”

“You should know that in the five weeks since the Pub re-opened eleven men and one woman have tried the challenge.”

“And?” Owen looked at Ianto expectantly. 

“One man has won.”

“Oh…” Owen slumped in his chair and took a long drink of his beer, silently cursing his big mouth.

“The next contest is on Saturday,” Gwen wore a mischievous look. “Want me to sign you up?”

Owen was prevented from answering as the waitress rushed up to their table. “I am so sorry to keep you waiting! What can I get for you?” She held her pad and pencil at the ready.

“Our intrepid friend here would like to compete in the burrito challenge on Saturday,” Gwen spoke first. 

“That’s wonderful!” the waitress enthused. “I’ll go get the entry form and you can sign up right now!”

“No!” Owen nearly fell off his chair he straightened up so quickly. “No, not this Saturday! Give me a chance to practice. Maybe the next one?”

“Every other Saturday evening, as long as someone signs up,” she nodded. “We have to know by noon that day so the cook can prepare enough ingredients.”

“Great!” Owen plastered a fake smile on his face. “I’ll mark my calendar.”

“What would you like today?”

Jack glanced around the table. “I think we’re all going to try your all-you-can-eat tacos, please.”

“Good choice. They’re pretty good if I do say so myself.” She jotted quickly on her pad. “I’ll get you started with three each, and I’ll keep my eye on you so you just let me know when you’re ready for more. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect,” Jack beamed at her, reading her nameplate. “Thank you, Trudy.”

Trudy smiled back, pleased that he knew her name; other than her regulars, most of the customers couldn’t be bothered to learn it. She returned a few moments later with a lazy Susan turntable that she put in the centre of the table. “Sour cream, guacamole, onions, cheese, salsa, jalapenos…” she pointed to each of the small bowls, then to the three small bottles in the centre, “and that’s mild, hot and really hot hot sauce… be careful with that one… a little goes a long way. The tacos come with beans, meat, cheese, lettuce and tomatoes so this way you can customise them any way you want.”

“This looks like it could be fun,” Toshiko smiled.

“And here’s extra napkins.” Trudy gave each person a stack of paper napkins at least an inch thick. “Gets a little messy sometimes.” The bell dinged, drawing her attention. “Be back with yours in a few minutes” and she was gone.

“Another round?” Jack looked around the table, noting the empty glasses. “Owen, I believe this one’s yours as well.”

“Yeah, yeah, all right,” Owen grumbled as he pushed his chair back and gathered up the empties. “Keep your shirt on!”

True to her word, Trudy returned less than ten minutes later and delivered their first set of tacos. “Let me know when you’re ready for more, I’ll be watching, okay?”

“Thank you again, Trudy.” Jack smiled at her once more. “Owen here plans on eating a lot of them, so we’ll see you soon.”

The aroma coming from their food was quite mouth-watering and they wasted no time in plundering the toppings tray. For the next few minutes all that could be heard was the crunching and chewing of hungry patrons, accompanied by a few groans of delight, an unexpectedly erotic moan from Toshiko which had her blushing almost as red as the tomatoes and at one point a frantic “Ooo! Hot, hot, HOT!” from Jack after putting too much of the hot, hot sauce on one of his tacos. 

Some ten minutes later the team sat back and wiped their hands and mouths.

“Good Lord, that was delicious!” Gwen took a long drink of her beer. 

“Oh yeah!” Jack beamed at the others. “Good call coming here, Gwen. Please thank Rhys for the recommendation.”

Owen looked around for the waitress, catching her eye as she finished serving a nearby table.

“So, what did you think? Good, right?” Trudy collected their dirty dishes. “Who’s ready for a second round?” She laughed as hands went up around the table. “Well, all right then!” She left but returned a few minutes later with fresh condiments and more clean napkins – she’d been right when she’d said things could get messy. Jack had used all his and had snatched a few of Ianto’s as well.

“So, Owen, you’re three down in your thirty-two taco total. How you feeling?” Jack grinned.

Owen rubbed his belly. “Like I haven’t even made a dent in how many I’m gonna eat,” he responded smugly.

“Let’s see how you feel after the next round.”

“Bring it on!” Owen raised his beer glass in salute, drained it and looked around. “Whose round is it this time?”

Gwen stood up. “I’ll get it. Same, everyone?”

All but Jack nodded. “I’ll have water.”

Gwen returned with their of drinks at the same time as Trudy, both unloading their tray’s bounty. “Enjoy folks and let me know when you’re ready for more, okay?” Then she was gone to take care of a table full of businessmen, each in a black suit with a black briefcase on the floor by their black shoes.

This time the pace was more civilised… there was no frenzy of adding goodies to their tacos and eating was much less like rabid animals and more like human beings. There was even a bit of conversation.

“Rhys’ mother wants us to start coming to hers for Sunday dinner,” Gwen said between bites. Nobody told her she had a smear of taco sauce on her chin. “She even wants my parents to come with us sometimes. Says she wants the family to be closer so when we start having kids everybody can share.”

Ianto put down his half-eaten taco and wiped his mouth carefully. “Are you thinking of having a baby?” 

Gwen had already taken another bite and she spit bits of taco shell and cheese as she snorted in horror. “Oh God, no!” She shook her head vehemently. “Don’t even put those words out there in the universe!”

“For what it’s worth, I think you’d be a great mum, Gwen,” Tosh offered quietly. 

“Well, thank you, but no.” Gwen smiled at her. “Not for a long time. Someday, but not now.”

Jack watched Owen devouring his tacos in four large bites, each corn tortilla shell over-stuffed with extra cheese and big dollops of sour cream and guacamole. “Slow down, Owen!” he laughed. “We’ve got like an hour and a half!”

“Eighty-seven minutes, actually.” Ianto slipped his pocketwatch back into its little pocket in his waistcoat. “Plenty of time for you to eat another twenty-six tacos.”

“Don’t worry, Tea-Boy, it’s a done deal.” Owen stuffed the last bite of taco number six in his mouth and turned to look for Trudy.

As Trudy served them a new set of tacos, Jack looked at his plate then looked up at her. “Why only three tacos at a time?” he asked curiously. “Wouldn’t it be easier to serve five or six at a time? Fill people up faster and get them out, opening up tables for new customers? Certainly make less work for you.”

“Nah. We’ve found that three is the perfect number so that each one is still crisp and hot from first to last. Any more than that and by the time you get to the fourth, fifth or sixth one, the taco shell is gone soft and the filling is cold.” She shook her head. “We want you to really enjoy every bite and soggy tacos are not good eats.”

“Works for me,” Gwen shrugged, twirling the lazy Susan around so she could add more cheese and jalapenos to hers.

“Mmmfppff…” Owen mumbled around an enormous mouthful; he had already taken his first bite before the last plate was set down.

“Owen, be careful,” Ianto sighed. “I am not giving you mouth-mouth if you choke to death.”

The medic swallowed, washing the food down with a very large gulp of beer. “Trust me, Tea-Boy, I know where that mouth has been and it’s not coming anywhere near me!”

Jack burst out laughing, spewing taco debris across the table. 

“Ewww!” Gwen flapped her napkin at him even though none of it came anywhere near her. Toshiko merely took a spare napkin, gathered up all the crumbs from around her and pushed them over in front of Jack’s plate and then continued eating.

Just a few minutes later, Owen was waving at Trudy again, motioning her to their table.

“So, who’s ready for more?” She surveyed the plates, seeing that Owen and Jack’s were empty. 

There was a half an uneaten taco on Ianto’s plate but he waved her off. “No, thank you, I’m done, but please thank the cook for me. They were quite tasty.”

Gwen had quit after five, leaving a full one, while Toshiko still had almost two and a half tacos left on her plate.

“Are you ladies done as well?” Trudy was collecting plates and waited for their replies.

“Oh yeah!” Gwen pushed back from the table just a bit. “Wish I’d worn a belt just so I could loosen it.”

Tosh nodded. “Thank you, Trudy. I’m finished as well.”

With five plates in hand, Trudy grinned at Jack and Owen. “All right, gentlemen, tacos seven, eight and nine will be right up.” She left and returned with a full set of condiments, swapping them out for all the empty bowls on the lazy Susan. “Just a few more minutes.”

“Ya know, I’d expect the girls to go out on just a few, but you, Tea-Boy?” Owen shook his head. “Never thought you’d wimp out so soon.”

“I did not ‘wimp out’, Owen.” Ianto sipped his beer then calmly continued. “I simply reached the point where I felt satisfied by the amount of food I have consumed and I possess the presence of mind and the self-discipline to stop eating.”

With his mouth hanging open just a bit, Owen stared at Ianto like the Welshman had just grown a third head. The rest of the table watched the two men in silence, waiting with bated breath to see how the often acerbic medic was going to react. Then finally…

“Huh?”

There was a collective sigh of relief from the others.

“I’m full, Owen.” Ianto barely stopped himself from rolling his eyes.

“Well why didn’t you just bloody well say so, you bloody pompous git!” Owen was winding up for a good rant when Trudy appeared and set a plate of fresh food in front of him, effectively shutting him down.

{*****}

Word had gotten around the pub that the two men were competing and patrons had pulled up seats so they could watch, with viewers backing their favourite. There were even a few under-the-table bets placed on who would win. 

Trudy collected the fifth set of empty plates and looked at the men dubiously. “You two don’t look so good.” She put a hand on her hip and narrowed her eyes. “I think you’ve had enough,” she told them sternly. “If you throw up on my floor you’ll be cleaning it up yourselves.”

“Right now we’re tied.” Owen stubbornly shook his head. “I’m gonna beat him or die trying!”

Jack just grinned at him. “Bring it on!”

“I agree with Trudy, Jack,” Ianto spoke up. “I really do think you’ve had enough.”

“However, I agree with Owen.” Jack shook his head, copying the medic. “One of us is going to win no matter what.”

Ianto shrugged. “On your own head be it. Just keep in mind how unpleasant it will be to clean Owen’s vomit off the floor and no, before you even ask, I will not help you.”

“Oi!” Owen was outraged. “What makes you think I’m going spew first?!”

“Must I remind you both that this is not an eat-until-you-make-yourselves-sick competition?” Ianto tried another tack.

“Says you, Tea-Boy!” Owen snorted. “Just cos you wimped out at five and a half doesn’t mean we have such ‘delicate constitutions’…” and he actually used air quotes. “Us real men are made of stronger stuff!”

“Yeah!” Jack puffed out his chest. “Us real men!”

“Real men?” Gwen snorted with laughter as she threw a used napkin at him. “Did you just say real men!” 

Toshiko tried to be the voice of reason. “You’ve proven your point, Owen… thin men really can eat a lot more than is usual.”

Trudy returned with fresh condiments and three more tacos each for Jack and Owen. “Remember, keep it all down or clean the floor,” she warned before leaving while more bets were exchanged amongst the small crowd watching.

Owen looked at his plate and gulped, the food suddenly very unappealing. Jack on the other hand was busy loading his tacos with more cheese, salsa and hot sauce.

“Don’t tell me you’re quitting, Owen?” Gwen asked with a big grin on her face. “You’ve still got to eat five more today and right now you’re only about halfway to the thirty-two Ianto came up with.”

Catching sight of Jack stuffing an overflowing taco into his mouth, Owen stuck out his chin and picked up taco number sixteen, forgoing any added condiments on this one. He took the first bite, chewed and swallowed, told himself firmly that there was no problem with finishing it and scarfed it down in three more bites. As he watched Jack load his seventeenth taco with sour cream and guacamole, he could feel his stomach start to churn and he gulped half his beer in an effort to keep from barfing across the table.

“Looking a bit green around the gills there, Harper!” Jack chortled between bites. “Throwing in the towel are we?”

Owen watched the last of Jack’s seventeenth taco disappear even as the man reached for the last taco on his plate. As he watched Jack smearing a large dollop of guacamole across his taco, Owen’s stomach lurched unpleasantly… the need to vomit was becoming overwhelming… he could feel the food rising in his throat. Gulping several times he gave up and tossed his napkin onto his plate, hiding the last two uneaten tacos from sight.

“Yeah, all right! I’m done!” Owen admitted defeat. “But only because all the beer I’ve drunk has taken up too much space!” He tried to defend himself but it was a weak effort.

Jack sighed with relief as he put down the last half of his eighteenth taco. “Thank God for that!” He pushed back from the table and rubbed his belly. “I am out of room!”

When he put his napkin on the table a cheer broke out amongst the spectators, winnings were claimed and several of them came over and congratulated the two men, clapping them on the back and shaking their hands before going back to their own tables and drinks. 

{*****}

“Yan, I don’t feel so good,” Jack moaned piteously as Ianto removed their coats and boots in the hallway then led him into the bedroom to stand next to their bed.

“I know, Cariad, I know.” Ianto quickly removed Jack’s clothing leaving him in just his boxers – ‘Scooby Doo undies!’ – a short giggle managed to escape no matter how hard he tried to suppress it, making Jack look at him suspiciously.

Ianto bunched the bed pillows up. “Now you sit there and lean back on these pillows and I’ll be right back with some ginger tea, okay?”

Jack did as told, squirming about, trying to get comfortable. “I wanna lay down,” he whinged. 

“I know you do, but sitting up means if you throw up you won’t choke on it.”

At the words ‘throw up’ Jack got a peculiar look on his face and then clapped his hand over his mouth. He made a weird sound and looked at Ianto with panicked eyes as he tried to get off the bed.

Ianto grabbed his arm and dragged him into the ensuite, barely getting him to the toilet before Jack’s stomach decided that it was completely done being abused by seventeen and a half tacos and a nasty looking stream of chewed up food suddenly erupted into the toilet bowl. Even though Ianto prided himself on his iron stomach – a necessary and very helpful trait when working with Torchwood – he felt himself swallowing rather thickly as the sight was joined by the smell.

Leaving Jack sitting on the floor and holding onto the toilet for dear life, Ianto quickly flushed and then stepped away to the sink where he ran the tap til the water got cold. Wetting a flannel, he went back to Jack and gently laid it across the nape of his neck. 

“I feel yucky, Yan.” Jack sounded like a small child.

“I know you do, Cariad,” Ianto found himself repeating. “Do you think you’re done being sick?”

Jack sniffed and nodded. “Yup.”

“Okay, you sit right there…” Ianto took the flannel back to the sink to rewet and he filled a glass is water. “Here, rinse your mouth out with this…” He handed Jack the glass and waited while he took a mouthful, swished it around and then spat into the toilet bowl.

“Do it again,” Ianto urged and when Jack was done he handed back the glass. 

“Thank you,” he said in a small voice.

“Lean your head forward,” Ianto urged before putting the flannel on Jack’s neck again. He returned to the sink, took Jack’s toothbrush from the holder, wet it and squeezed out some toothpaste, then refilled the glass. “Are you ready to stand up?”

Jack thought for a moment and then shook his head. “Uh-uh.”

“That’s all right,” Ianto soothed. “You can do this here.” He handed Jack his toothbrush but Jack just shook his head again.

“Don’t wanna…” The five-year-old child was becoming petulant as Jack crossed his arms.

Ianto took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Although Jack rarely got sick – said rather smugly that it was because of his superior 51st century immune system – when he did he made a lousy patient. 

“Cariad, please brush your teeth, it will make the yucky taste in your mouth go away.” Ianto knelt next to Jack. “If you don’t then your kisses will taste like sick and I wouldn’t like that very much.”

Jack gave Ianto a sad look and Ianto could see the wheels turning in his head so he gave his coup de gras. “I would really like to kiss you,” he said in a sultry voice, pursing his lips just a bit. “You know how much I love kissing you.”

“You would?” Jack’s face brightened a little. “Really?”

“Really.” Ianto nodded. “Really really.”

“Promise?” The child wasn’t completely gone.

Ianto held out his hand. “Pinkie swear,” and he extended his little finger. When Jack joined their fingers, Ianto pulled them up and kissed them gently before letting go. He could hear a slight catch in Jack’s breathing and knew he’d won. 

“Okay.” Jack reached for the toothbrush and made quick work of brushing his teeth and tongue, getting rid of all the nasty taste, and then he rinsed well, spitting into the toilet and drinking the remaining water from the glass.

Ianto helped Jack to his feet and rewet the flannel one last time. “Wipe your face for me, Cariad.”

“Thank you, Yan.” Jack smiled at his Welshman. “You always take such good care of me.”

“You’re welcome,” Ianto stroked Jack’s cheek. “Now, do you want to go to bed and take a nap or come out to the living room and lie on the couch? I’ll make you a bicarb and then some ginger tea.”

Jack pondered for a moment. “Will you stay with me?”

“Either way, I’ll come with you.”

The wheels were turning furiously in Jack’s head this time. If he went to bed, he could cuddle with Ianto under the duvet but if he went for the sofa, he could lay his head on Ianto’s lap and probably get him to sing to him. He did love to hear Ianto sing.

“Sofa.”

“All right then, let’s get you into some sleep pants and a T-shirt.” Ianto led Jack back into the bedroom. 

“Yan, I really feel yucky,” Jack moaned. “My tummy hurts.” 

“I know you do, Cariad,” Ianto smiled indulgently. “Let’s get you changed now.” He sat Jack on the edge of the bed and handed him his sleepwear, then knelt to slip a pair of thick woollen socks on his feet.

When Jack was dressed, Ianto grabbed a couple of bed pillows and took Jack’s hand, leading him down the hall and to the sofa, where he arranged the pillows and the comforter from the back of the sofa. “You lie down and I’ll be right back.” Before walking to the kitchen, he turned on their CD player and selected a Glenn Miller CD that he knew Jack loved listening to. He turned the volume down until the sound of big band music was playing softly.

“Okay.” Jack settled on the couch, leaned back and closed his eyes, thanking his lucky stars for giving him Jones, Ianto Jones.

True to his word, Ianto returned in just a few minutes with a glass in hand. “I’ve put the kettle on but in the meantime, sip on this. It’ll help you feel better.” He gave Jack the mixture of water and bicarbonate of soda, watching him for a moment then went back into the kitchen to set up a tea tray… ginger tea for Jack; his grandmother used to give it to Ianto when he was a little boy with an upset stomach and the aroma of steeping ginger brought back fond memories. He chose a black tea – Prince of Wales – known for its smooth taste and mellow aroma. He read the back of the box while he waited for the kettle to click off, learning that the tea had been specially blended in 1921 for the Prince of Wales, later King Edward VIII.

A few minutes later he returned to the living room with his silver tray all laid out with matching two-cup teapots and mugs, setting it on the low table in front of Jack. He poured Jack’s tea first, stirring in a spoonful of honey before handing it to Jack, then pouring out his own, adding just a bit of sugar and milk to his from the small matching sugar bowl and creamer. The six-piece Japanese porcelain tea set had been a housewarming gift from Toshiko and he loved using it. Then he settled on the sofa next to Jack, pulling him in against his side.

“Sip your tea, Cariad,” he urged. “It’ll make your tummy feel better.”

“O… BUUUUUURRRRRRPPPPP!” Jack let out a huge belch then clapped his hand over his mouth and looked at Ianto with a horrified expression. “Ianto, I am so, so sorry!” The words were muffled by his fingers, but Ianto understood.

He reached up and took Jack’s hand away, holding it in his. “You should be glad Owen’s not here… he’d be making some very rude comment or another.” Ianto smiled. “Don’t worry about it, it’s just the bicarb working.”

Jack finished his tea. “That was tasty, thank you.”

Ianto set his mug on the side table, careful as always to use a coaster. “Why don’t you lie down,” he suggested.

“Can I put my head in your lap?”

“Of course,” Ianto settled himself more comfortably and Jack’s head was in place the moment he stopped moving. “Well, hello there, handsome, come here often?” The Welshman’s voice was laced with amusement as he looked down.

For once, Jack couldn’t think of a naughty comeback and he moaned softly. “I’m sorry, Yan. I didn’t mean for our afternoon to end this way.”

“It’s all right, Jack.” Ianto gently rubbed Jack’s. “Now you know better than to play foolish games with Owen,” he said in a soothing mildly sing-song voice. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Jack sighed. “Next time I get to pick the game.” Luckily his eyes were closed so he missed seeing Ianto’s eye roll. Pity, too, cos it was truly epic.

Between the soft music playing, the soothing tea, and Ianto’s gentle stroking of his hair, it didn’t take long for Jack to doze off.

Ianto spent a few minutes looking at him, studying his profile, watching him sleep… he rarely ever woke before Jack, so he took full advantage of the opportunity. Then he picked up a book he’d been reading and enjoyed a peaceful reprieve from the madness that was usually his life.

It wasn’t long before Jack stirred, opening his eyes and looking up at Ianto. “Sorry about that,” he smiled ruefully, “didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

“That’s all right, Cariad.” Ianto smiled back, stroking his face. “Are you feeling better now?”

“Umm…” Jack sat up and paused for a few seconds, thinking about it. “Yup. Much better. Thanks, Yan.”

“Why don’t you get into bed while I tidy up here and I’ll join you in just a few minutes? Okay?”

“You’ll come with me?” 

Ianto nodded as he collected their tea tings. “Just let me put these in the sink.” He went into the kitchen and then popped his head back around the doorframe. “Don’t forget the pillows.”

Already in the hallway, Jack turned around and came back. “Good idea.”

{*****}

Settling in for a late afternoon nap – like lunch, it was another luxury being afforded them by a Rift with nothing on the horizon for the next four days – Ianto spooned in behind Jack, his arm over his lover, rubbing his poor belly gently. He was pretty sure from Jack’s relaxed body and lack of talking that he was well on his way to falling asleep. Ianto closed his eyes and was just on the verge of sleep when…

PPPPFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT…

A miniature blast of hot air hit Ianto Jones right in the crotch! He would later swear that he could actually feel his pubic hair move like they were in a stiff breeze.

“Jack Harkness!” he roared, shoving Jack away from him and scooting backwards himself. “How bloody dare you fart all over me!”

Jerked from sleep, Jack was at first bewildered. “Wha…?”

“You just farted right on me!”

Jack blinked and then started laughing like a fiend. 

“Don’t you laugh at me, you pig!” Ianto was the epitome of indignation. “That was disgusting!”

“Your… you should…” Jack couldn’t speak he was laughing so hard, “see… your face!” He leaned back as he pointed and then suddenly he was gone, landing on the floor with a loud “OOOF!” There was a moment of silence before the uproarious laughter started again. 

“Jack?” Ianto’s face appeared over the edge of the bed, worry furrowing his brow. “You okay?” He looked at Jack, lying on his back, still laughing.

“Come on… Yan!” Jack sat up, tears running down his cheeks. “Farts…” He gasped for breath. “Farts are funny!”

Try as he might, Ianto couldn’t keep the smile from his face, a smile which became a giggle and within moments he too was laughing. Finally, wiping tears from his own face, he held out his hand. “Come on, you twpsyn, get up here.”

Accepting the help, Jack climbed back into bed and pulled the duvet up over them, settling in but this time with him spooning behind Ianto. Just as the Welshman could feel sleep creeping up on him, he heard…

“Yan?”

“Huh…?” 

“Now my tummy hurts again.”

end


End file.
